Paradise
by Etsuko Ayako
Summary: Medic needed it. He licked his lips. It was right there, so close. His mouth was dry, thirsting for it. It was a chance to be in paradise, and escape this wretched battleground... He couldn't take it anymore, he succumbed to the thought. To the desire. To the release. (Mild drug use and mild language.)
1. Chapter 1

The RED medic's fingertips stroked his neck in deep thought. His legs were crossed at the ankle, and positioned upright upon an oak table. His mind trailed, passing through the day's activities... The usual fighting BLU mercenaries, talking with Engineer about new technological developments, intellectual discussions with Spy...

Medic looked around the room as he tapped his fingers on his chin. The high ceiling did nothing to insulate heat: it was beyond chilly in the room; his breath was visible. Despite this, a fan across the room hummed as it gently blew air through the room, further accentuating the coolness of the evening. The breeze kissed his forehead. It grazed across his cheeks. A small, low fire simmered down in the fireplace next to him. Its barely-existent orange, dancing flames cast a glow throughout the room, illuminating a variety of medical tools set upon a bloody counter. The light flickered as it caressed crusted, dark blood caked upon the surface. Vials of some deep brown liquid were scattered across the nightstand, some used, some full, others empty. Used and unused syringes littered the floor and chair he was sitting on. Most were missing their plastic caps. The medic's eyes gazed to one of his hands, grasping a half-empty bottle of some clear liquor...

He knew in this moment that he couldn't hold the pain at bay much longer. He un-crossed his legs, allowing the right foot to move closer on the table, sliding across the grain of the wood. His black boot left a slight mark on the polished surface. His knee raised slightly with this motion, and he lifted the bottle to rest there. The German's shoulders raised and lowered as he breathed deeply, lost in thought, battling with the darkness and desire...

The medic exhaled loudly as he turned his head to the unkempt nightstand. A small analog clock was rested there.

2:38

He pulled his gaze back to the bottle, taking a large swig of it, allowing the burn of the alcohol to sting his lips, tongue, and throat for a moment before swallowing. His lab coat was folded perfectly and crisply on a the floor in front of the fire. t was the only pristine article in the room. His tie was draped asymmetrically around his neck, his vest opened and wrinkled. His tousled dark brown and graying hair messily covered his forehead, plastered here and there. This, of course, was a typical night for the doctor. He was a mess. None of the team could ever know it. He couldn't ever let anyone know of the nightly parades through his paradise, of his urges to escape the snow-laden wasteland in which Mann Co. Industries deployed him. He looked to the window, snow gently landing on the windowsill, allowing his thoughts to meander...

The muscular man took another slug of the liquor, maintaining it within his mouth for a few moments. The burn of the alcohol was starting to die with the fire. This was the beginning of his intoxication. He was perceiving gravity peculiarly, and he tilted his chiseled face to the side and snickered at the sensation. He confidently took another large drink of the substance, his face contorting as it gulped down much of what was left. Satisfied, he gradually lowered the glass bottle to the floor beneath his legs. The firelight consumed it, reflecting shards of luminescence and rays of light throughout the room like a star. Freckles of orange and red and yellow danced on the walls, across the table, over the vials, and through his eyes...

The man couldn't keep the thought defended anymore. Growling at himself with disgust, he lowered his head in shame as his rebellious brain treaded towards it, now running at it, unstoppable. He looked to a framed picture on the table upon which his boots rested. Within that frame was the thought. Pull away, pull away! This photo...

His fear...

In the snapshot, Heavy stood, chest puffed out, smile wide across his face. Medic was next to him, Archimedes perched on a single finger. They were in a forest. It was dark out, and stars filled the sky. Their expressions were of sheer happiness. This was the last photo of Heavy before...

Before...

He quickly pulled his legs closer to himself, inhaling and exhaling quicker, emotions overcoming him uncontrollably. He was a mastermind! He was a intellect! He would not permit this to happen again. His comrade's death would not cause him to surrender. But Heavy was more than just a friend. The Russian was brother in battle. And he was so much more. His head rolled to the nightstand...

He needed it. He licked his lips. It was right there, so close. His mouth was dry, thirsting for it. It was a chance to be in paradise, and escape this wretched battleground...

He succumbed to the thought. To the desire. To the release.  
Almost involuntarily, as if rehearsed regularly to the point of muscle memorization, his bare hands shifted, one pulling him upright slightly as the other moved through the cold air to the nightstand. Almost in a daze, his eyes followed this hand.

Seemingly on its own, it picks up a used syringe. The long, narrow needle covered with grime, dirt, and blood gleams in the last bit of firelight. His other hand grasps for a vial drunkenly, knocking two or three others on the ground. One clattered a few times before rolling to the other side of the room, to the door.

The broken man submerges the needle into the vial, until the tip reached the brown, murky liquid. He smiled not out of happiness, but out of anxiety. He was destitute, starving for it. He drew the toxic drug with two fingers, watching the syringe fill up to the maximum level. Bubbles within the plastic cylinder rose towards his hand. A familiar sensation flooded him. Everything, everyone, everywhere was this chemical. All that mattered, all that ever existed was this single thing.

He inhaled deeply, resting his body back into the chair, letting his muscles relax. He looked to the picture, his eyes swelling with a recognizable blur. Blinking, the medic allows the droplets to fall from his eyes onto his cheeks, roll down his chin, and fall onto his chest. He mutters something to the snapshot on the table, then plunges the needle into his forearm quickly, a slight sigh escaping his pale, pursed lips.

The fire crackled as he propelled the liquid into his flesh, making sure every last drop left the device. His vision went in and out of focus rapidly, colors began to change, his heart beat irregularly. His left hand fisted tightly as he ripped the needle from his arm. A spurt of blood followed it...

A warm moan left his smile. He looked upward, to the high rafters quickly turning to an open night sky, and closed his eyes tightly. He knew when he would open them again, the pain would be gone, the anger would be gone, the battle would be over. He breathed in, smelling new scents. His fingertips felt new sensations. The vial fell. It broke into pieces as it hit the floor. The fire frisked over its sharp edges. He didn't care, he was in paradise...

He squinted at the stars that shone brightly above his head. They formed many various shapes and entities, all new and mystical to him. A recognizable orange glow flickered around him, illuminating his surroundings. A lush forest of trees, tall and strong towered over him. Their branches each held a memory. These memories were out of his reach. He needn't worry for them...

The dew-laden grass he was laying in was soft and fresh against his exposed skin. His chest rose and fell with breaths of fresh spring air. An owl hooted from somewhere. Crickets chirped around him.  
Around them...  
He tilted his head to the side, the customary entity now appearing...

He was formed from his rib. As he looked to his chest, the regular hole was there. A single rib was missing from his abdomen. He smiled, knowing what would happen next: The rib floated to the spot next to him, and grew, was shaped and molded into a humanoid shape, then covered with skin. It adjusted in certain places, eventually forming the bear of a man. Heavy...

A large smile formed on his face as he reached his right hand toward the big man, who reached for him as well. They grasped palms, wrapped fingers tightly, and gazed at the stars, now dancing and forming shapes to entertain them. Heavy gasped as glowing butterflies flew around them, and lightning bugs darted here and there. The crickets told them stories, and the frogs acted them out. A waterfall was heard from somewhere...

Heavy looked the doctor in the eyes.  
"You came back for me?" he questioned, his raspy Russian voice echoing in the forest.  
"Always, Heavy," the medic replied, rubbing a thumb across the other's hand.  
They smiled at each other.  
A lovely smile.  
They told stories.  
They laughed.  
He even told Heavy about his conversations with Engineer, and his newest advancements in medicine.  
Heavy laughed that great, loud, happy laugh.  
He told Medic that he was glad to see him, that he never wanted to say goodbye. Their grips tightened.  
Medic could hear the burly man's heart beat.  
Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum...  
Heavy was really there. He really was.  
Medic smiled and gazed at the stars, pointing to a formation of a dove flying.  
Heavy told Medic how much he missed him. How great it was here. How warm and happy he was. He told the German how he could come live with him here, just the two of them. Their forest, their paradise together.  
Heavy caressed the medic's forearm, tracing every cut and scar with a soft, fat index finger.  
He smiled to the man.  
Whispered something.  
Closed his eyes.  
Listened to the owl and the crickets and the waterfall...

But...

All great things must come to an end.

The stars were the first to go, aligning and forming long, wooden beams. The trees faded into the walls of his mind, the dark memories once supported by branches now falling upon him like bricks. They were heavy, and held him down. The crickets screamed, the frogs howled in pain. The waterfall raged as a stormy sea. Medic's vision blurred quickly, focusing in and out rapidly. Lights from all around him flared orange. They strobed in his eyes. The grass decayed into the dirt, and the butterflies turned to dust and corroded in thin air...

His eyes widened. The ground shook and tremored beneath him. A great wind roared into his face, a chilled wind. Medic looked next to him, his hand now empty. A needle was where the large man's hand used to be. A pile of bones and mounds of skin was rotting next to him.

He screamed as he flung himself upright to escape...

His eyes snapped open.

Darkness encapsulated him. The fire had gone out. A thin plume of smoke continually rose from the cooling ashes. The fan blew on his face and chilled him as it touched beads of sweat on his upper lip and neck. He was sitting on the chair, back arched fiercely toward the wooden rafters, his legs still clinging to the table in front of him. His left hand's nails were dug into his chest where his heart is...

His right hand was still outstretched for the other's...

He had been out for multiple hours. The analog clock ticked away next to him.

6:21

The man fell to the floor in physical and emotional pain. He needed to see Heavy again. Just to spend a few minutes with him. He needed to touch his fingertips and hold his hand. He needed to hear his voice...

He sobbed and moaned as he cried, cold on the floor. His heart ached. He curled tightly into a ball and his chest shook as he attempted, and failed, to stow the memory away once again...

A knock.  
A pitter-patter outside the door.  
A pair of whispering voices.

Someone had heard him talking in his sleep... Something about Heavy...?

"Wake up, Private! Time to get out of bed!" Soldier hollered over the whispers.

Medic sat up on the floor, broken glass crumbling beneath his weight. He rubbed a finger under his nose and sniffled, forcing the thought back into its rightful place, away...

He turned to the table, to the picture. He reached a cold, stiff hand to it, and lowered the frame until it met with the filthy oak surface. He couldn't afford to let anyone see, to let anyone know...

"Jawol," he muttered back as he stood up, dusted off his pants and reached for the lab coat. He looked back to the picture once, quickly.

He would return to his paradise again...


	2. Wish You Were Here

_So you think you can tell_

_Heaven from Hell,_

_Blue skies from pain_

_Can you tell a green field?_

_From a cold steel rail?_

_A smile from a veil?_

_Do you think you can tell?_

The Medic trotted along beside the Soldier as he loaded two rockets into his launcher. The gruff man pointed a finger furiously down a hall of the mill,

"There! Movement!" He pumped his shotgun as the German followed closely behind.

Of course, he couldn't focus. His thoughts were not on fighting. His mind trailed to thoughts of his paradise, with the cold green grass brushing against his legs and arms, the small droplets of water falling from the tall oak trees around him and running down his face… And the other man, looking at-

"Medic!" a disgruntled call from the other side of the wall. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and turned around the corner, muttering curse words under his breath in his native tongue.

This stupid drug had taken over his life, and he knew it. He thought every day about putting it to the side and never looking at it again. But it was the only thing that could make him feel whole again. His life had been a neverending realm of distress and grief since his partner died. But he never had to think about the pain of losing him if he could be with him every day. At least, that's what he thought. In reality, the doctor was a mess. He couldn't do his work, his living quarters were filthy, he lost much of his interest in engineering and science, and by now all of his teammates had noticed.

That is, except soldier. This surly American was the only one the doctor could find himself spending time with. The man was too stupid to ever figure it out. He couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast that morning! Surely he was too simpleminded and brainless to understand the emotions involved in the Medic's life at that point. He didn't want to let anyone in, to have anyone understand his pain. So he isolated himself with the team idiot.

Returning to the base was always the day's most embarrassing moment. He was never sure if he should follow anyone else in, trail on their heels, and slip by the crowd, or if he should try to act natural like nothing was bothering him and waltz through the doors, shoulders back. He decided to pat soldier on the back and follow him nonchalantly. Approaching the door to their barracks, his heart sunk deep within his chest. A sense of failure and fright loomed over him. But still, he managed to cross the threshold, one hand still on Soldier's back for some sort of emotional or moral stability.

"Hey, Doc, c'mon man, what's going on out there?!" an angry Scout stormed in his direction. His eyebrows were furrowed in anger, and an index finger was jabbed into the doctor's chest repeatedly.

"You nearly got me killed. Twice," the Boston man's accent was prominent when he was enraged.

The rest of the team fell silent. All seven of them were watching the interaction. Demoman, perched happily atop a couch, took a swig of his whiskey before smiling to watch. Engineer crossed his arms in disapproval of the exchange, but didn't get himself involved. Medic glared at the Texan for not helping him.

"I'm not sure," the German shrugged as he averted his eyes back to the smaller man.

"I'm not feeling all that well," he quickly moved toward the door that would lead to his room,

"No! You aren't going until you give all of us a proper explanation!" Scout jumped in front of him. His body was between the medic and the door. The taller man's heart was pounding.

"You've always been there for us, been the best doctor… Tell us what's goin' on!"

His head spun, and the ground trembled. The man swallowed hard. What was happening?

"You have been doing something in your room, haven't you?" Scout snapped,

"I heard you, last night, talkin' to yourself in your quarters…" his eyes squinted maliciously.

The colors of the room were falling off the walls, like paint peeling away. His vision went blurry. His head was pounding,

"Scout! Not now…" he tried to push the man aside, to no avail.

"Tell us what's happening, Doc," Sniper said in a slightly more reassuring tone.

The Medic groaned in pain, clasping his hands over his ears. Something was trying to escape his head, pushing against his skull. His arms and legs felt like pin cushions, and his feet wobbled in a feeble attempt to hold him upright.

The rest of the team stared blankly at him.

The doctor shook violently, falling to the ground. His mouth was frothing. Muscle spasms ran up and down his back, causing him to flail his appendices in every direction. Contractions in his legs made him kick vigorously. His head shook, hitting the ground with each impulse. He peed himself.

Two of his team members came to his aid just as he slipped out of consciousness and into darkness. As he fell into the blackness, he heard spy's voice,

"Is this… withdrawal?"

_And did they get you to trade_

_your heroes for ghosts?_

_Hot ashes for trees?_

_Hot air for a cool breeze?_

_Cold comfort for change?_

_And did you exchange_

_A walk on part in the war_

_For a lead role in a cage?_

It was an unknown time and an unknown place. The Medic's eyes opened slowly to reveal a blackness so deep and void he had to blink twice to realize it was the darkest pitch black he had ever seen. Was he in a cave? Was he lost at the bottom of the ocean?

He felt around him.

He was laying on something soft, with sheets and blankets draped over his lower torso and legs.

Ah, it was his bed. He smiled.

Deafening silence surrounded him. He took a deep breath as he thought of his paradise. The desire to be there overcame him. His skin was hot with need. His mouth watered.

He needn't sit upright.

He needn't fumble in the dark.

He needn't think about how.

His hands traced the familiar pattern in the air, going quickly to the nightstand and found the small vial and used needle.

It was quick.

He was already inhaling and injecting.

Ripping the dirty needle from his arm, he casually tossed it over the side of the bed. He exhaled deeply, allowing the feelings to rush over him like a tsunami. He squeezed his eyelids before they opened slowly, revealing a blanket of stars above his head.

"Doctor?" a familiar voice from somewhere.

"I am here!" he called back with enthusiasm and excitement.

He sat up, his hands now in the dew-laden grass he so thoroughly enjoyed. He smiled a wide smile and brushed the dew-drops from his legs. He was nearly naked. The only articles of clothing this time were his undershorts, which fit him snugly.

He looked around the forest grove, admiring the leaves of the tall trees. They were reds, browns, greens, yellows, and purples. He caught one in his hand as he stood. The branches reached far above him, stretching up to the sky, holding the blanket of stars in place.

The German gazed in awe at their vast trunks. They seemed to glisten in the moonlight.

And oh, the moon… It glowed, with its large, white surface shining light down upon his face, casting warmth and comfort upon his eyelids and cheekbones.

"There you are," a deep voice cooed lovingly from behind him.

"Ja, I am here for you," he replied, playing with the pink leaf in his hands. He laughed to himself… He didn't want to turn around just yet, he wanted it to be special. He wanted to surprise the other. He smiled,

"I have a gift for you," he put the stem between his index finger and thumb so that the weight was supported upright. He looked at it's spine and exposed his teeth in another smile.

Slowly, softly, sweetly, smooth hands wrapped around his shoulders in a hug.

He had not been expecting that.

"Heavy, I missed you," he turned on his heel to face the man, their eyes meeting in an unbreakable gaze. The larger man had not removed his hands from the other. He pulled him closer, even.

"I waited. I will always wait, Doctor."

At this, Medic wrapped his arms around the big Russian and nuzzled his face into his collarbone. He could smell him. He could hear his heart beating.

They walked through a field of wild strawberries. Heavy picked some and handed them to the other with a booming laugh and a soft smile.

"This reminds me of our time spent in New Mexico desert," the large man looked to the sky.

"How? This is nothing like that wretched place."

"Well, we are together. We are team again," Heavy replied.

They both smiled.

The stream that flowed next to them babbled softly. Heavy turned to look at it, then took a few steps toward it until he was at its edge. Medic gazed on at him. He could see the moon in the reflection of the water. The creek was filled with life and sounds. Frogs, crickets, fish, snails, birds, snakes, and mice all called the creekbed their home.

He approached the water and leaned over, now able to see his own reflection. But where was Heavy's? His eyes darted from the man to the water, searching for an explanation as to why the man's face was not next to his. The large man shook his head slowly from side to side.

Medic turned to the man and gripped his shoulders tightly, "Please, please don't make me go," he begged, "Not yet, just a little longer, please don't make me leave here…"

Heavy's head fell.

"Please! I can't go back to that icy, barren land. I can't leave you here any more. I can't go on without you, Heavy. I waste away in my room, all night, just wishing there was something I could have done," the doctor fell to his knees and clasped his hands together.

"I beg of you, don't make me go, they don't understand! They will never understand the pain, Heavy. They don't know what it's like to watch someone you love die in your hands!"

The other man stared at him, empty. He crossed his arms out of pity.

"Please!" he crawled forward put a hand on the tall man's foot.

"Your time is up," the large man said cooly, and walked into the forest.

Before the medic knew it, the world was spinning, everything was black, the earth collapsed, falling from under him. He looked all around him at the destruction of his perfect world. The bushes were on fire, the water of the creek turned to oil, the trees were a mess of concrete and steel. Ash slowly fell from the sky onto his face. He stood up, seemingly levitating off the ground that had fallen from beneath his feet. Looking down to the bottomless abyss, he realized there was nothing but blackness there. Heat from the fire became intense as he tried to follow Heavy. The air turned to smoke, and filled his lungs with a dense and suffocating noxious gas. He choked as he called for the other. He did not turn around. He called again, now reaching his hand out as he trotted after him.

The large man hooked a right, passing between a blood-covered Euthanasia table and a gurney. Medic didn't look at the people strapped to them as he jogged after the other. Everything was on fire. The clouds were of fire, the stars were burning cinders. His perfect paradise was an inferno. Pieces of gray ash fell onto his cheeks and he wiped them away angrily with his forearm.

"Please, come back! Don't leave me!" No matter how fast he ran, the other could out-walk him.

He gradually came to a stop, put his hands on his knees, and coughed as he was gasping for air.

"Heavy…" he sobbed as he looked around him. He was totally surrounded by fire now, everything was flames. He froze as the plasma got closer, and closer, and closer, making its way to his body. He clenched his jaw as the heat became more intense.

"No! I don't want to burn!" He spun around to escape, but there was no way out, the blaze was too close. It quivered as it hovered ever closer, now caressing his skin.

His hair scorched first, and was gone in moments. The skin of his arms and his nose was melting. He screamed in agony and pleaded for the other to come back and save him. Giant blisters formed and ripped open across his body. He rubbed hands along his face to put out the fire there, but only bones were where a German's sculpted features had once been. Blood poured from his eyes as they, too, melted. He shrieked in anguish as he curled in a ball and prepared for death.

_How I wish, how I wish you were here._

_We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, _

_Year after year,_

_Running over the same old ground._

_What have we found?_

_The same old fears._

_Wish you were here._

Expectedly, he opened his eyes to find himself in a cold sweat among a mess of blankets in his bed. He was in his boxers. The sheets were pulled tightly around him, and he was curled on his side. He shivered as he tried to remind himself of his surroundings.

He knew he had been taken from the Red Rec Room to his quarters after he had fainted. Someone must have removed his soiled clothes. A gutsy team mate must have carried him into his room, dodging broken glass and needles as he took him to his bed.

He rubbed his forehead with a large hand, messing his hair and sighing. His secret was no longer a secret. Everyone knew now.

"Heavy…" he sighed as he sat up and looked in the direction of the picture on the table. It had remained upright. Whoever had entered his room had seen that snapshot.

He thought of what had happened that night.

And he knew that he needed to see him again.


End file.
